Addressed to Sari Krosinsky. Written on the New Mexico Rail Runner during one of our monthly trips to Santa Fe where Sari had an appointment with zir psychologist, in January 2016. Published in The Shining Air.
Train, Pueblo Land
The snow defers to the black bushes
but the sky has a thickness in its color.
Slopes and gullies fold upward into it,
grieved by eras of lost stone.
Then the choking little roads and driveways
spasmodically white, with here and there
taillights on crouched metal.
Beside me you work on your story—
one of the ways your head is a downward head this morning.
Inkmarks and cuts on your thumb look like each other.
The city starts to push into the window.
After sex last night, in that sleepy together sprawl,
I told you “This is the best part.”
You made a low smile sound, too drooped to disagree.
I know you thought I meant the best part of sex.
I meant the best part of my life.